


Ties That Bind

by Brate



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Family, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-03
Updated: 2011-07-03
Packaged: 2017-10-21 00:14:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/218680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brate/pseuds/Brate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can choose your friends, but not your family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ties That Bind

John shifted the Tesco's bag to his other hand and grabbed hold of the banister. In his exhausted state, the stairs looked especially daunting. He took a deep breath and started up the mountain. About two-thirds of the way to the top, he stopped, hearing angry voices reverberating through the flat.

"Really, Sherlock, if you wanted my attention, there are easier ways to go about it," Mycroft drawled.

Sherlock scoffed. "I don't want anything from you, least of all attention. If you displayed even half the intelligence you claim to have..."

Lowering his eyes, John mentally sighed. He glanced back down the steps, wondering if he could escape before either of them noticed. Perhaps he could hide at the clinic.

"John, do stop dawdling and get in here," Sherlock called.

John cringed, then squared his shoulders and finished ascending the stairs. "I'm not getting in the middle of you two," he announced as he took off his coat, hanging it on the hook. The brothers were in their favorite positions—facing each other like opposing generals on the field of battle.

"I was merely informing Sherlock that, as the elder sibling," Mycroft said, "it's my duty to care for my younger brother. Watch out for his welfare, whether or not he thinks it necessary."

"To which I responded that whatever I do is none of his business," Sherlock scathingly added.

"I'm not taking sides, dammit!" John burst out, flushing as two pairs of eyes fixed on him.

John knew he'd given away too much, and couldn't endure the intensity of the twin stares, especially right now. Trying to spare himself, John hurried into the kitchen and started unpacking the groceries. There weren't many, so to avoid going back out to the main room, he filled the kettle and placed it on the burner.

He heard Mycroft leave.

By the time the water was boiling, Sherlock was leaning against the doorframe. "What's she done this time?"

John shook his head. "Nothing."

"Hmmm." Sherlock raised an eyebrow and watched John pour water into the teapot.

Used to such scrutiny, John ignored it. He knew whatever expression was on his face, whatever his body language related, whatever infinitesimal clue he was displaying, Sherlock would see. No use trying to hide anything, and John wasn't sure he wanted to. If there was anyone who could understand the maddening nature of siblings, it would be Sherlock.

Finally, Sherlock walked into the kitchen, standing on the other side of the table. "How is she?" he asked gently...for Sherlock.

Even after all the times he'd seen Sherlock pull someone's life history out of virtually nothing, it still impressed John. Though he wondered what had given it away, this time he wasn't in the mood to ask. "She'll live."

"But for how much longer if she keeps going on like she has been?"

"Apparently, it's 'none of my business,'" John reported with a sneer.

Sherlock grunted. "Then why did she call you?"

"Habit, most likely."

"And why did you respond?"

"The same."

"You need to break off all contact. You can't help and she's only making you miserable."

John winced. "I can't not love her."

"Have you tried?" Sherlock countered.

"Yes."

Sherlock paused, as if the answer had surprised him.

"You haven't cut yourself off from your brother," John reminded.

"Oh, believe me," Sherlock said, "I have endeavored to do so."

Smiling wryly, John shook his head. "If you really wanted to, you could disappear and Mycroft would never find you. You haven't." He finally turned to face Sherlock. "Tea?" he asked, silently pleading his flatmate—his friend—to let it be for once.

And, for once, Sherlock seemed to understand. He nodded. "Yes, please."

They drank their tea in silence.


End file.
